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#good omens reader insert
kaylinelizabeth4004 · 7 months
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Heaven is Here
SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.
TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men
WORD COUNT : 12,253
A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.
55BC—————
"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.
"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."
Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.
He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.
"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.
"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.
However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.
"Pity, they are quite delectable."
"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.
A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.
"She looks happy," Crowley said.
"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."
Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."
"What was sarcasm?"
"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."
Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."
"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."
"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.
Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."
"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.
"Angel..."
"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact
"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"
Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."
"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."
"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.
"Right, even though I said she looks happy."
"And that's ironic?"
"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.
"Why yes I do think-"
"Angel, that was irony."
"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."
"We?"
"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"
"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."
"Well, yes but-"
"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.
Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"
"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."
"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.
Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."
She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"
Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."
She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."
"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."
"No, I s'pose not."
"What can I do for you?"
"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."
Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."
She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."
"Hurt by his own army?"
"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."
"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."
She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."
"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."
After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."
"No, it wouldn't be."
"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."
"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."
Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.
She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.
Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.
"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.
Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.
He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.
He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.
"Not going to help are you?"
"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.
"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."
It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.
"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.
Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.
1377—————
There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.
After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.
"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.
"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."
"Churches are built by humans."
"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.
"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."
"It is not."
Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"
Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."
A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."
"That is your concern?"
Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."
"He's a child."
"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."
"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."
"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.
Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"
The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.
"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"
"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."
Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."
Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"
Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."
There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.
Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"
"- that really hurts -"
"- I know, I know -"
"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"
"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"
" - I did not appreciate that."
" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."
After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."
They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.
All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.
Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.
"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.
"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.
"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."
"Pardon?"
Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."
"I never said that."
"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."
They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.
Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."
"Come now-"
"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."
"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.
Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.
Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.
"Very nice."
"Are we good, now?"
Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."
Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."
The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.
Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.
Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.
"S'alright Angel, up up."
"Pardon -"
"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."
Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.
Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.
In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.
"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.
"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.
"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.
"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.
She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.
"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.
It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.
She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.
As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.
As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.
"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.
"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."
Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.
She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.
"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."
"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.
She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."
"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.
"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.
Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."
Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"
"Precisely, my dear."
"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.
"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.
"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.
"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.
"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."
"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."
She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."
"Oh dear, I couldn't -"
She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.
"Please accept this, Aziraphale."
"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."
Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.
1601—————
"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.
Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.
The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.
"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"
"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.
"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."
Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.
She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.
Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"
"I-I-"
"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."
"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.
"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.
The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"
"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."
She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."
"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."
"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.
"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.
Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."
"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."
Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."
The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.
"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.
The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."
"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.
"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."
Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."
The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.
"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."
"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.
"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."
Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."
"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."
"Rather kind actions from a demon."
Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.
Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."
"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.
"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."
"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."
Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.
"What's your name?"
"Mary Edwins."
Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."
She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"
"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."
"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.
Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."
"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."
"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.
She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."
The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.
Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.
Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.
Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."
"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.
She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."
Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."
"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.
"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.
"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."
"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.
She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."
They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."
"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.
'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."
Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.
"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.
'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."
"You make her clothes?"
"Oh no, I tend to mend them."
The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"
Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.
"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.
She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."
"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.
She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."
"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.
As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.
Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."
"Wot?" He said in shock.
"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."
She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.
"She was something," Crowley said.
"Yes, she was."
"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"
"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.
"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.
"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.
1865—————
Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."
"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."
"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."
Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.
"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."
Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.
"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.
She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.
"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.
She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.
"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."
She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."
Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"
Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.
Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.
A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"
"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.
"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."
"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.
She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"
"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.
"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"
"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"
She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."
"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.
"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.
"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.
"And by the sound of it, you have too."
"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"
"-77 and 1601."
Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"
"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."
"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.
"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.
"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."
Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."
"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.
Current Day—————
Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.
He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?
"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.
"What're you doing out
She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."
"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."
There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.
Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.
"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.
"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"
"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"
There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."
"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"
"Yes, I do. Crowley-"
"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.
"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"
"She's here."
Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"
"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."
"You saw a golden thread?"
"Yes."
Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."
"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."
"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.
Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."
"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.
"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."
"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"
Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."
"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."
Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."
"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.
Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"
"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.
"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."
"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."
"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.
"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"
Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"
Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."
"Oh dear."
"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"
"I blessed her for eternity."
"So? What's that mean?"
"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."
"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"
"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."
"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"
Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."
"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."
"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."
Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"
"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.
"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."
"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."
"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"
"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"
"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."
There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.
"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.
Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"
"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.
On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.
"What do we do?" Crowley asked.
"We have to tell her."
"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."
"Well that would be straightforward -"
"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."
Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."
Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.
"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.
The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.
"You seeing that, Angel?"
"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."
It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.
"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."
They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."
"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.
They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.
"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.
Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."
"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.
Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."
Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."
"Yes, dear, we are."
"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.
Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.
She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"
"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.
"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"
"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."
"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"
Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."
His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.
Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."
She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"
"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.
"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"
Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."
"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."
"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"
"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.
Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"
"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."
"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"
"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."
"But white and black make grey?"
Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"
"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."
There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.
She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.
"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.
The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.
"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."
He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."
Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.
She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."
The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.
Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.
She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"
He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.
With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."
He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"
"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."
"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"
She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."
Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.
"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"
Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."
The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.
“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.
“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.
There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.
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shinybearnerd · 9 months
Text
"Notes of Chaos"
Hi everybody!
Since Good Omens season 2 is almost here, I wanted to share some of my ff with you.
The pairing is not between Crowley and Aziraphale, even tho there may be one of them in the future. They are so cute together and I ship them, but I think I'm not that good at capturing their ineffable love. Idk, I hope it makes sense...
This is my first time publishing a smut ff. I'm a little nervous lmao.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Let me know if that's the case!
Pair: Crowley x Gn!reader
Words: 2,6k
Genre: Fluff, smut +18
Story: After the Armageddon, Crowley has been kicked out of his apartment and now he's living in his Bentley. You and Crowley are good friends, so you propose he stays at your place for the moment. He accepts, even tho he's reluctant. Days pass and you and the demon are coming to get closed and closed until one night, at a party...
-Engish is not my first language. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes-
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Every person that has known y/n would describe them as someone that has an infectious smile and bright eyes that light up even at the littlest thing.
They had always been fascinated by the idea of supernatural creatures, and as soon as they learned that Crowley was a demon, they were drawn to him in a strange and intriguing way. Despite their human nature, y/n was open-minded enough to accept Crowley for who he was.
Ever since the demon had entered their life, they had discovered an unexpected complicity with him.
After weeks of living together, Crowley had become accustomed to y/n's company and their eccentricity. Though at first, he'd been reluctant to accept their offer of hospitality, he'd gradually come to trust them and realized that he couldn't have found a better person, apart from Aziraphale of course, to share time with than them.
One evening, Y/n enthusiastically approached Crowley while he was immersed in one of the many blogs about plants that the demon followed. <<Hey, some friends are planning a party this night. Five minutes from here. Would you like to come with me? >> asked, trying to hide the excitement.
Crowley lifted his eyes from the phone and looked at Y/n, considering their proposal. Initially, the prospect of a party didn't seem very appealing to the demon, who preferred to spend the evenings alone or with a few people he felt comfortable with. But then, a thought crossed his mind: perhaps, this would be an opportunity to get closer to them.
After a short pause, Crowley nodded. <<Yeah, sure. It'll be fun.>> Y/n eyes immediately lightened up as they embraced him enthusiastically. <<Crowley, you'll love them! And I'm sure they'll love you too!>>
In the evening, the two walked towards the meeting place. Crowley followed Y/n. As they passed through the neighbourhood, the lights of the adjacent houses cast a welcoming atmosphere on the whole street.
When they reached their destination, the music and the sound of laughter greeted them. The party was on an elegant terrace, above a very chich club, with upbeat music and some people already laughing and dancing.
Crowley noticed that Y/n was like a fish in water, in the midst of people, while he preferred to remain cold. Still, Y/n's presence offered him a sense of comfort he'd never experienced before.
<<Come, Crowley, I want you to meet my people!>> They insisted, gently taking his arm and leading him.
The demon found himself in a various circle of people: there were artists, musicians and people with eccentric clothing.
And if before he felt out of place, at that moment he felt at home.
He left himself carried away by the festive atmosphere and found himself laughing and joking with guests who weren't Luna or her friends. Maybe it was the alcohol. Yes, it was definitely the alcohol.
As the evening wore on, Crowley realized how gorgerous and charming Y/n looked as they danced lightly. He was beginning to love the way their eyes sparkled with a particular light when they talked about something that fascinated them or when they talked to their friends… The way their nose crunched when smiling or laughing…
The hours passed, and the party continued in its fervency.
Crowley and Y/n found themselves sitting against the railing of the parapet. The bright colour of the lights created a magical and intimate atmosphere in some way.
There was no need to talk much. They seemed to understand each other even without many words. <<Crowley>> Y/n said, placing their hand lightly on his. <<Thank you for coming with me tonight. It's nice to have you here.>> The demon smiled. A sweet one that he rarely showed to others. <<Yes. I'm happy too. It was a... pleasant evening.>>
They were smiling at each other when suddenly the DJ spoke, telling everybody that the night was almost ending and that he was putting on the last songs.
Immediately, Y/n took Crowley by the arm, dragging him into the dance floor. The demon didn't know whether to feel bothered or amused by their gesture. He chose the second option.
The music was loud, but that didn't seem to bother Y/N, who danced carefree and sensually, as if there was no one around them.
Crowley found himself mesmerized by their presence. His ancient and mischievous soul recognized Y/n's attraction and excitement, and the thought made him smile. He even thought that they would have been a heaven of a demon.
He let himself go to the music, allowing Y/n to lead him on an intoxicating experience.
The evening had revealed a side of them that Crowley had never seen before: a wild and charming person, capable of awakening new sensations in him.
With an amused smile, Crowley followed Y/n's movements, letting the music surround them both. He no longer cared about the outside world or his worries. The only thought that mattered to him was sharing that moment with them.
At one point, they moved even closer to Crowley, their bodies almost touching. The heat and electricity between them seemed to increase. It wasn't just the music that moved them, but a mutual attraction that was growing more and more.
In a playful tone, Y/n whispered in Crowley's ear over the noise of the music. <<You know... we could wreak some havoc together! That would be fun.>>
Crowley smiled, realizing that they were playing with him, but at the same time seeing a small spark of truth in their suggestion.
<<We could, but you know, I've spent millennia wreaking it… Maybe I need a break, gorgeous.>> he replied winking behind his black glasses.
Y/n laughed, looking down as they resumed letting the music wrap around them. Trying to hide their blushed cheeks.
Something in hearing their laughter snapped in him and, without them realizing it, the demon slipped behind, grabbing them with one hand, which he held on their stomach, and pulling Y/n towards himself, continuing to dance.
Although Y/n seemed to never stop laughing, they felt their breath short for a few seconds. Crowley's touch made them shiver, but not in the way they expected. It was an electrifying sensation, a combination of awe and pleasure.
They turned to him, meeting his leering gaze, and their heart started pounding even faster. <<Crowley.>> they whispered, almost out of breath. The demon answered them with a knowing smile, moving closer. << Sounds to me like you need some guidance, Y/n. I can help you with the pacing if you like.>>
Y/n smiled. And immediately after they let themself be completely caught up in Crowley's grip. They felt his strong, warm hands on their skin as his rhythm joined in an intense, sensual dance. The heartbeat quickened the breathing of both mixed.
As they danced together, Y/n felt the heat of Crowley's body against theirs, a magnetic energy that seemed to grow stronger and stronger. It was as if their souls touched, opening the door to a deep and mysterious understanding. The more they danced, the more Crowley closed them, letting themselves be overwhelmed by their aphrodisiac smell; the more Y/n grinded and danced against Crowley. There were no words, just the music enveloping them, and their emotions melding together.
Y/n felt like they were in a trance, fascinated by the way the demon treated them. His touch was electrifying and everything they needed in their life.
Crowley, on the other hand, was surprised about how Y/n could push his emotions so high. In every movement, in every touch, he felt the pull of their power, humanity and irresistible energy. He had gotten used to being cold and calculating, but with Y/n, everything seemed different.
They continued to dance, letting themselves be guided by the music and the intensity of the moment, until they felt the demon's crotch behind them, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Which didn't go unnoticed by the demon, who gripped them closer. He leaned closer to them, leaning into Y/n's ear, grinding more. He spoke with a husky and amused whisper. <<Do you like dancing with me, my dear? >> Y/n moaned softly. << Yes...>>
Crowley's hands trailed up Y/n's hips as his sensual movements made them feel alive like never before. It was as if the whole universe was concentrated at that moment. The demon's hands squeezed them tighter, their bodies moving in unison. The dance floor felt like their kingdom, where they could express themselves without fear or judgment.
The music surrounded them more, leading them into a whirlwind of emotions and desire. Every movement, every touch, was filled with passion and mystery. Suddenly, it stopped. But, even though the song ended, the connection between the demon and the human was still strong.
They stopped to stare into each other's eyes, not saying a word. The short breaths were due to the movement and desire they felt towards each other. Crowley was breathing heavily too, looking at them through his glasses with an impenetrable gaze.
<<Follow me. >> he ordered, breaking the silence.
Y/n didn't have to hear it again. They let the demon grab their wrist and followed him, slipping through the crowd that had resumed dancing.
As soon as they got out, Crowley pushed Y/n against the nearest wall, approaching them with an intense expression in his eyes. Their lips met passionately, hungry for each other. Each kiss was a promise of pleasure and togetherness.
As Crowley brushed his hands against Y/n's skin, the contact ignited a fire that spread throughout their bodies. They felt the heat emanating from the demon, an intense and overwhelming feeling that made them want him even more.
Y/n's hands hooked on the collar of Crowley's jacket, pulling him closer. They could feel the hardness of his muscles against their body, and the energy emanating from him made them shiver with excitement.
Their breaths mingled, quickened by the desire that burned them from within. There was no more room for inhibitions, just the will to indulge in an uncontrollable passion.
As the kiss deepened and deepened, Crowley moved his hands over the curves of Y/n's body, exploring them with desire and reverence. His fingers traced lines down their back, leaving a trail of fire on their sensitive skin.
Y/n moaned in pleasure, responding to Crowley's touches with smooth movements of their body. It was as if they were in perfect harmony, dancing to an ancient tune of passion and desire.
The pressure of the demon's body against theirs intensified, and Y/n could feel their arousal spreading now. It was an explosion of sensations, a shiver that shot through their spines and spread through their entire being.
As the kiss broke off, leaving a line of saliva that united them, their gazes met once again. There was a promise of lust and affection in those golden eyes. An intensity that made their heart beat even faster. <<Crowley...>> whispered Y/n, their voice full of desire. The demon smiled at them. A smile full of mischief and affection that only they could see. Y/n bit their lower lip, their body vibrating with a desire that was impossible to ignore. <<Crowley, please... Fuck me.>>
Without saying a word, Crowley took Y/n's face in their hands and kissed them again hard and passionately. It was as if they were two souls on fire, consuming each other. Crowley's hands moved impatiently, exploring Y/n's body with uncontrollable hunger, starting to free both of the encumbrances of pants/and dresses.
Their breathing was irregular, their moans mixing in the night air with the muffled noise of distant music. It was a symphony of desire, a crescendo of sensations that carried them higher and higher.
The demon picked them up, pressing them against the wall, and Y/n wrapped their legs around him, welcoming him. Crowley began to playfully rub his hard erection against Y/n's core, who moaned impatiently. A sly smile was on his lips. <<Crowley... please!>> <<You know what to do, sweet cheecks.>> replied grinding harder against them. Y/n tightened their grip on the shoulders of the demon, who watched them in amusement. <<Crowley-… fuck. Please, fuck me hard. Ruin me! Ruin other people for me. >> With a sudden movement, Crowley thrust all of him hard, causing them to let out a strangled cry of pleasure. <<Fuck. You're so deliciously tight! ...Can I move?>> <<I'll kill you if you don't!>>
Their bodies moved in unison, dancing in a timeless, erotic choreography. Each movement was a promise of pleasure, a celebration of the intense connection between them. The more the demon moved, the more the human felt they were about to come.
As Crowley's trusts quickened, Y/n understand that he was close too. They could hear him gasping and grunting in pleasure, feeling Y/n's core squeezing him just in the right way. He tilted his head backwards, moaning and grunting into the free air as he had his way with Y/n.
<<Oh, my- fucking god! Yes, baby! Just like that!>> The blasphemy and the tone of their voice were his last straw. His movement quickened more, while his pushes became harder.
They soon came together: Crowley feeling his cock sweetly being milked by his lover's soft walls, and Y/n feeling his warm seed coating and filling them.
With their bodies still vibrating with passion, Y/n and Crowley remained embraced against the wall, wrapped up in each other and seeking the breath and the sweetness in each other's embrace. Their skins touched delicately as if they wanted to keep every spark of that magical moment.
With the accelerated beat of their hearts in the background, they exchanged an intense kiss, full of gratitude and complicity. Their warm skins pressed together as heavy breathing filled the air around them. It was as if time had stopped, leaving room only for the present, just for the two of them.
Crowley continued to support Y/n in his arms, his golden eyes fixed on their y/e/c. His hands caressed them delicately, almost as if he were touching a precious work of art. They felt every touch of the demon on their skin, an electric hiss that made them shiver with pleasure. He seemed fascinated by every inch of the human's body as if he were exploring an unknown and fascinating world. Every nuance, every curve, seemed to be etched into his mind like a symphony of beauty.
<<You're so gorgeous...>> Crowley whispered hoarsely, the words spoken with worship and adoration.
Y/n smiled, feeling loved and wanted in a way they had never experienced before.
<<And you are extraordinary. >> answered softly.
Their gazes met again, and deep in Crowley's eyes, Y/n could read a mix of emotions: desire, passion, but also a vulnerability that made him even more fascinating.
The demon's lips explored their necks, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His sensual bites on their skin made them quiver with pleasure, blending sweet with spicy in a symphony of sensations. Y/n's hands tangled in his red hair, pulling him even closer. They felt his heart beat in unison as if they had become one soul.
They lost track of time. It was just the two of them, immersed in a world of their own, a world of desire and pleasure that enveloped them like a whirlwind.
Suddenly the kissing stopped and Y/n felt Crowley's strong arms wrap around them while his head was buried against their chest. As if he wanted to protect them from the whole world and at the same time, wanted to protect himself.
They welcomed him gently, feeling the warmth of his body next to theirs. Making the demon feel loved. In the silence of the night, their breaths calmed. <<What a way to provoke havoc... >> he remarked, amused. Y/n chuckled. <<We should do it more often. >> The demon turned his gaze to look at them. A smirk full of love and devotion on his face. <<Yeah, we should.>> He brought his face closer and kissed them passionately, keeping their head in place with his hand.
<<I think it's time to go home...>> suggested Y/n with a smile. << Yes, I think so too.>>
He carefully set them down, asking if they could stand on their own. Once Y/n felt more comfortable, they dressed each other again and then left the party together. Crowley's arm was placed over their shoulders.
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denaliwrites · 5 months
Text
f i c m a s t e r l i s t
p o l i c i e s (please read before making requests!)
b a d s a m a r i t a n The Best of You, Honey, Belongs to Me Blackthorn Cover Myself in the Ashes of You Dumb Ways To Die Enough of You to Dull the Pain (18+) Hellbent Looking For A Godsend Hit Me With Your Best Shot I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (18+) I'm Gooey in the Middle Baby Let Me Bake In His Eyes A Flaming Glow Intrigued and Afraid Keep You Like An Oath (18+) Killing Me Softly My Baby Shot Me Down (18+) Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy (18+) Only Touch That Gets Me Melting (18+) Run Rabbit Run (18+) Say My Name Send a Thousand Kings Away Shia Surprise Something Good to Celebrate Stop, Look and Listen, It's Halloween! Taste of a Poison Paradise Trust in Me, Just in Me With Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart Your Body's a Secret Girl and You're About to Spill It (18+)
t h e b o y s Watch That Butcher Burn
b r o a d c h u r c h Always Leave Me With a Hungry Heart Am I Doing This Right? An Art to Life's Distractions Beating Like A Kick Drum Catch & Release Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do It's Been a Long, Long Time Love's Perfect Ache Now and Again We Try to Just Stay Alive Regale You With A Gourd-geous Tale Say You'll Remember Me Say You'll Remember Me (Denali's Version) Tell Me It's A Nightmare
d o c t o r w h o Cuddle, Meet Puddle Cute Things Don't Blink (Part 1) Don't Turn Your Back (Part 2) Don't Look Away (Part 3) Dreams See Us Through (Part 4) Hate the Feeling of Falling Have a Holly Jolly Christmas Horrible Things Isn't That Wizard It's How I'm Made Let Me Come Home Little Creepy House On the Brave Shit The Origin of (Love Bug) Species What Beautiful Things I'll Wear When the Crypt Doors Creak You Know That I Would Jump Too
d u c k t a l e s Tales of Daring
g o o d o m e n s All I Want For Christmas Aziraphale's Favorite Author Dance on a Tightrope of Weird Free as My Hair His Love is All in Me How the Wine Plays Tricks on My Tongue Lockdown Blues Making Biscuits My Heart's a Stereo Naked in That Garden (18+) Out There Making DuckTales Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made Road to Hell Something Meaty For The Main Course Step Too Far Tongue Tied Your Love is Holy (18+)
f a l l o f t h e h o u s e o f u s h e r Tomorrow I Shall Be Fetterless (18+)
f r i g h t n i g h t Emptiness to Melody Everybody Scream in Our Town of Halloween Fixed Up to the Nines Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself (18+) I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin' Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (18+) Make Me Glow Night of Long Fangs (18+) Parade of Dancing Skeletons Talk So Pretty (18+) Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel? (18+)
h a u n t i n g o f b l y m a n o r ???
j u r a s s i c p a r k / w o r l d Best Behavior The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm
p r o d i g a l s o n But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps Never Fallen From Quite This High Office Supplies Rude Boy They are the Hunters, We are the Foxes Trigger Happy With a Sense of Poise (18+)
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noforkingclue · 2 months
Text
Desperation
Summary: The end times are near and Crowley has come to you with a proposition.
Author's Note: decided to publish this as it was sitting in my WiP folder for too long and since I've also started re-watching Good Omens I thought now was as good as time to publish it!
You always knew when Crowley and/or Aziraphale were in your flat. Call it an instinct that developed from knowing them for over thousands of years. Which was why it was so surprising to see Crowley standing in the middle of your flat without any prior warning.
You paused when you saw the demon standing there and you carefully shut the door behind you. He twitched at the sound but didn’t turn around. You slowly made your way towards him, nervous about what was going to happen. You frowned briefly at the unfamiliar feeling coiling in the pit of your stomach, it had been years since he had made you feel like that.
“Crowl-“
“Everything’s fucked.”
You blinked at Crowley’s sudden outburst. While you’d heard him swear before it wasn’t that usual. You winced as you heard the sound of cracking wood and looked down, realising that he was gripping your table so hard that he was splintering the wood.
“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, worried about your friend as well as the future of your table. It was an antique after all.
“Have a cup of tea and tell me what’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” Crowley let out a bark of laughter, “What’s happened is the world’s ending and Hell knows that all of this,” he spun around and waved his hands about, “Is because of me! I misplaced the antichrist and now they’re coming.”
“Oh.”
“So I’m leaving.”
“That’s sensible.”
“And I want you to come with me.”
You froze, midway through making that cup of tea you promised. You looked at Crowley out of the corner of your eye. He walked over to you and put a hand over yours, forcing you to lower the kettle.
“It isn’t safe anymore,” he said, “Everything is going to get destroyed. Hell and Heaven are going to war and it isn’t going to be pretty. We can escape. Be safe.”
“What about Aziraphale?”
Crowley, who had rested his forehead against your shoulder, tensed behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against him.
“He think he can stop this,” he muttered, “He isn’t coming.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly you were spun around and pushed roughly against the counter. You gasped in shock and Crowley tilted your chin so you were looking directly into his eyes. It was the first time you had properly seen him and you could see the desperation etched across his face. His sunglasses were gone and you were forced to look into his yellow eyes. He grabbed your chin and forced your head in place.
“Come with me,” he said quietly, “It’ll just be the two of us.”
“But what about-“
“Shh, don’t think about him.”
You opened your mouth to protest but Crowley seized the opportunity to press his lips against yours. You squeaked in surprise as Crowley wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you roughly against him. You put your hands against his chest but found them trapped between your bodies. Crowley broke the kiss but remained close. You felt his lips brush against yours and he said,
“Just think about me.”
“And the world.”
“We’ll be safe.”
“We’ll be on the run.”
“We’ll have each other.”
“And Azira-“
Crowley covered your mouth with a hand. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder.
“I thought I told you not to think about him.”
He removed his hand and brushed your cheek with the back of it. He smile softly and his gaze dropped back down to your lips.
“If Zira thinks that there’s hope then there must be.”
“So you’re choosing him?”
Crowley shook his head and gave you a bitter smile. He stepped away and you gave him a pained look. You took half a step towards him but he put his hands up to stop you.
“I understand,” he said, “one last hurrah.”
“Crowley-“
“It was fun while it lasted.”
“We can still beat this.”
“No we can’t.”
And with that you were once again left alone with only your hope to keep you company.
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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 4 months
Text
Dark Glasses - Crowley x Reader (Platonic)
Sooooo, Nanowrimo was a bust, but you know what that means?
We're back with the fanfiction train! Choo Choo!
also reminder that requests are open! (just check out my guidelines first)
Wordcount: 1.9k
Summery: Friends support friends even when your friend is actually a demon but especially when your demon friend just got shot down by his long time angel crush.
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The same man has been coming to your bar since you started working there five years ago. The other bartenders told you he's been around since you opened 20 years ago, he never gives his name and comes in with dark glasses no matter what time of day it is or whether the sun is out or not. Although unlike most regulars he doesn't have a specific drink he always orders. Sometimes it’s a rum and coke, sometimes he goes for a more classy bottle of wine, sometimes he'll even order a straight shot of liquor but he always tips well. 
You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair. 
Instead you called him dark glasses.
Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking. 
Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him. 
"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows. 
“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said. 
As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying. 
You walked over to him and handed him the drink. 
"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go. 
"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.
You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned. 
"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled. 
"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said. 
"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no. 
After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk. 
Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling. 
"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.
"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word. 
"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes. 
"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar. 
He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone. 
"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated. 
"Can't," He said. 
"What do you mean can't?" You asked. 
He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants. 
"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?
"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head. 
"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.
"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down. 
"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help. 
"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled. 
"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping. 
A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.
"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked. 
"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.
"My car?" He asked. 
"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked. 
"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities. 
"I don't like this car" He complained. 
"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.
"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred. 
"You're never this mopey" You retorted. 
"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off. 
"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded. 
"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there. 
You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled. 
"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled. 
"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch. 
"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused. 
"Who?" You asked. 
“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.
"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged. 
"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup. 
"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table. 
"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself. 
Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale. 
But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way. 
The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting. 
"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest. 
She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily. 
Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved. 
"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.
"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known. 
"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.
He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. 
"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said. 
"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes. 
"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet. 
"Oh you have no idea" He said. 
At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.  
"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked. 
"Never" He said. 
"I don't think I believe you" You said. 
“Well it’s the truth” He said. 
“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.
“Glasses?” He asked. 
“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”
“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way” 
“That’s quite the original name” You said.
“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.
“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked. 
“You wanna know a secret?” He asked. 
You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked. 
He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said. 
“Then, yeah I guess”
“I’m a demon” He said. 
You chuckled.
He didn’t laugh. 
“No”
“Yes”
“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.
“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again. 
“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back. 
“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”
“How come it didn’t?” You asked. 
“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.
“We?” You asked. 
“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling. 
“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.
“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 
“He didn’t die.” Crowley said. 
You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief. 
“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining. 
“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.
“Not after he said he forgave me” He said. 
“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully. 
Oh.
“I’ll go get us both some wine” You said. 
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imagination-phantom · 5 months
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Safe with you and you and me.
The angel an demon are the definition of comfort characters for me right now~
Haven’t been feeling too hot lately mentally, being a aziracrow sandwich helps. Lol
Click the image if blurry!
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sailorsally · 8 months
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It's 2 AM in Wales when Michael Sheen's phone rings
Michael: Hello?
Misha: so how is it then?
Michael: How is what? Who is this??
Misha: how does it feel to finally get to kiss the love interest of the gay angel you play on tv?
Michael: Oh Misha, it's you. Is this why you are calling me at 2AM??
Misha: I HAVE TO KNOW, MICHAEL
Michael: Do you really wanna know?? I'll tell you then. It's absolutely mISERABLE EXISTENCE, MISHA!! THEY KISSED! AND EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT! BUT I CAN'T SAY ANYTHING, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?? I CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE I WILL BE CROSSING A PICKET LINE - AND I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO MY FELLOW ACTORS - BUT GOD I AM AT MY WITS END. IT'S 2 AM AND I'M READING FANFICTION GOD HELP ME
Misha: oh
Michael: yeah.
Misha: I'm sorry I didn't realize... How is David doing?
Michael: Oh, enjoying my misery. He finds this particular situation of mine quite amusing.
Misha: Oh, don't they always.
Michael: Oh, your partn- Jensen too?
Misha: Don't even ask
Michael: But you two didn't even get to kiss, did you?
Misha: Precisely!
Michael: cannot imagine wh-
Misha: Michael, please
Michael: Oh right, I am sorry.
Misha: I am sorry too. About you know, the whole situation.
Michael: Thank you. Wishing you and your angel all the best.
Misha: Same to you and your angel. Goodnight Michael.
Michael: Goodnight Misha
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rareomens · 30 days
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Rare Omens Comment Fest 2024 is wrapping up with Day 28 & 29! We’re asking you to leave comments on fanworks that feature: Canon Character + "Reader" or Fan Insert!
Tags to search...
Reader
Reader-Insert
Reader-Interactive
You
Or pick a favorite character and search in Relationships:
Character/Reader
Character & Reader
Character & You
Feel free to check out our AO3 collection, Rare_Omens: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Rare_Omens
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dervampireprince · 3 months
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youtube
ASMR | Good Omens - Aziraphale x Listener SFW Aziraphale Takes Care Of You While You're Sick
[M4A] [Established platonic relationship, can be viewed as implied crushes on each other] [Post season 1, pre season 2] [Sick comfort - tired to leave it vague enough it could be a short term, long term or chronic illness] [Implied Azirapale x Crowley x listener platonic relationship]
Yes I used he/she/they pronouns for Crowley, fight me. Based on a Patreon request. Tiffany Boyer asked for "Crowley or aziraphale takes care of u when your sick".
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Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]
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softestqueeen · 3 months
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✧*̥˚ masterlist *̥˚✧
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most of my fics are x fem!reader (i subconsiusly have me in mind, makes sense) but you can request fics with different dynamics!
all of my fics can also be read on my ao3: @ softestqueeen
my masterlist for my specials! -> my specials are NOT on my regular masterlist!
please MDNI!! most of my content is for a mature audience only!
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✧*̥˚ key *̥˚✧
❤️‍🔥 smut 🌸fluff ⛓️ hurt/comfort 🖤 dark ✍🏻 request
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✧*̥˚ BBC Sherlock *̥˚✧
i can't do this anymore! ⛓️🌸
sherlock holmes x reader When Sherlock overhears you talking on the phone, he thinks you're going to leave him.
let the light in 🌸
sherlock holmes x reader After a particularly frustrating case, all the consulting detective needs, is closeness.
misty mornings 🌸
sherlock homles x reader feat. Mrs Hudson and John Watson When Sherlock Holmes awakes on his birthday, he doesn’t expect anyone to remember it. But of course, you do.
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✧*̥˚ Marvel/mcu *̥˚✧
need to be closer ❤️‍🔥🌸
bruce banner x afab!reader You love your boyfriend Bruce Banner with all of your heart but sometimes you just don‘t feel close enough. So you decide to try something new...
when you come home to us, pretty boy... ❤️‍🔥
sub!steve rogers x dom/afab!reader x dom!buck barnes It was no secret that your relationship was kinky. Even though Steve has been pleasured by Bucky multiple times, he wants you to mark him. And who are you to turn such a good boy down?
i have an idea... ❤️‍🔥
sub!steve rogers x dom/afab!reader x dom!buck barnes On the first vacation with your boyfriends, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, you notice the shower with a glass wall into the bedroom and immediately know how to put it to good use…
let me teach you pt. 1 🌸
steve rogers x afab!reader x bucky barnes You are a literature professor at university and your boyfriends decide to pay you a visit and listen to one of your lectures.
let me teach you pt. 2 ❤️‍🔥🌸
steve rogers x afab!reader x bucky barnes You are a literature professor at university and your boyfriends decide to pay you a visit and listen to one of your lectures. When they join you at your office, things get a little out of hand…
slipping and gliding pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥🌸✍🏻
natasha romanoff x afab!reader When the Avengers spend a day at the local water park, you start to see a certain redhead in a different light. You’ve never had anything with a woman before, but Natasha doesn’t mind showing you what feels good.
slipping and gliding pt. 2 ❤️‍🔥
 natasha romanoff x afab!reader After what happened in the showers, you and Nat make a quick exit to move your fooling around to somewhere else…
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✧*̥˚ Call of Duty *̥˚✧
it's yours, princess ❤️‍🔥
simon “ghost” riley x reader x könig (cod) On a mission with König and Ghost you have to stay at a safe house. The only problem – there is only one bed.
my little flower pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥🖤🌸✍🏻
stalker!könig (cod) x reader You were just minding your business, planting some new flowers in your garden, when suddenly a (charming) man in a mask abducts you to use you for his pleasure. You are incredibly conflicted; the stranger seems to be kinda nice but also incredibly selfish at the same time.
my little flower pt. 2 ❤️‍🔥🖤✍🏻
stalker!könig (cod) x reader You were just minding your business, planting some new flowers in your garden, when suddenly a (charming) man in a mask abducts you to use you for his pleasure. You are incredibly conflicted; the stranger seems to be kinda nice but also incredibly selfish at the same time.
Slowly you’re getting used to living with the man that was slowly becoming more than just the man who abducted you. You’re also getting used to the different ways he’s using and abusing your body.
do you trust me, sweetheart? ❤️‍🔥🌸✍🏻
simon “ghost” riley x afab!reader After an unsuccessful mission, you notice how tense and stressed your colleague and friend Simon “Ghost” Riley is. When you ask him how you can help him relieve some stress, things take an unexpected turn…  
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✧*̥˚ Haunting Adeline*̥˚✧
red roses and deadly promises ❤️‍🔥🖤🌸
zade meadows x fem!reader When your stalker, Zade Meadows, has to do some business out of town, someone new makes an unwelcome appearance. How will Zade react when someone tries to steal you away from him?
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Of Heaven and Hell - Traitorous Heart
Pairing: Crowley x Female OC/Reader x Aziraphale
Word Count: 1381
Warning: Spoilers ahead for Good Omens Season 2 Episode 6.
Description: Aziraphale makes a decision that will change the lives of the ones he loves most.
Note: This fic is written from the second person POV but features a female Half-Demon/Half-Angel OC of mine from this one-shot I wrote several years ago.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Aziraphale!" The angel heard the voice of his partner before they burst through the doors of the bookshop.
"Lia, you're alright," Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief seeing you already up and around after the injury you'd sustained during the demon's attack on the bookshop. Crowley had whisked you away to the home the three of you shared a few blocks over the second the demons were gone. You'd been in dire need of healing and rest you wouldn't have gotten in the chaos surrounding Gabriel and Beezelbub's revealed tryst. You of course had insisted Crowley return to Aziraphale's side the second you were patched up, "I have the most wonderful news."
"Zira," the crack in your voice made Aziraphale's heart stutter. He hadn't heard that sound from you in decades not since... no he couldn't bare to dredge up that memory, "Please don't do this."
Aziraphale realized Crowley must have already told you what happened between them. 
"You can come with me," Aziraphale took a step towards you, and his face momentarily crumpled when you fell back a step in response and he saw the tears threatening to spill down your face, "The Metatron promised things would be different with me in charge. He told me that Crowley would be welcomed back and you would be permitted entry. We just have to convince Crowley-" 
"You honestly believe that after everything the angels have put me through, put us through they'd just let a demon and a hybrid monstrosity walk right into their ranks with open arms?" you spat, every ounce of disdain and disgust you held against Heaven dripped from your voice like acid, "Do you not remember what they did to me? How they experimented on me? How they fucking hunted me like an animal for centuries because my parents were an angel and a demon? How they hunted and hated a child simply for being born?"
"It will be different now," Aziraphale's eyes pleaded with you, "I'll make things different." 
"You honestly believe you can change a system that has quite literally been like this since the dawn of time?" Aziraphale hated the look in your eyes. The doubt and pain in them was a knife in his chest, "Zi, Crowley was cast out simply for asking questions. What makes you think they will welcome me into their sterile white paradise? I'm an abomination, remember? I'm below the demons in Heaven's hierarchy of trash."
"Please, Azalia," Aziraphale stepped forward to take your hands in his, and this time you let him, "I know they have hurt you. I was the one that pulled you out of that prison the angels locked you up in to do those experiments. I helped Crowley nurse you back to health. I may not have loved you as long as Crowley has but I love you just as much. You know that. Please tell me you know that." 
"I do," you nodded.
"Good," Aziraphale brought a hand up to wipe away the tears now running freely down your cheeks. A small smile graced his lips as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closed, "I wouldn't have proposed this if I thought for a second they would hurt you. I will never let them lay a hand on you in Heaven."
"They don't have to lay a hand on me to hurt me," you whispered and opened your eyes to meet his, "Please, Aziraphale. We've worked so hard for the life we've made here. Why do you want to give it up? We're free here. Finally free after centuries of hiding who we are. In Heaven, there will be rules and expectations even you can't change."
"Azalia," Azirphale started but you cut him off. 
"I know you believe in Heaven. That you believe they can change," you took the hand he held to your face in yours and squeezed it gently as you lowered it, "I wish I could believe in that as much as you do."
"Lia," it was Aziraphale's turn for his voice to crack, "Don't do this. I can't lose you, too." 
"I'm sorry Aziraphale," you let your hands fall from his and began to back away, "I love you so much, but if you go back to Heaven... I can't go with you. Not after everything they've put all of us through. Not just me but you and Crowley. I know you can't see it yet, but Heaven has victimized you, too, and I can't forgive any of it."
Aziraphale was speechless as he watched you turn your back on him and walk for the door just like Crowley had. Hope fluttered in his chest as you paused upon the threshold of the shop. 
"If you change your mind about all of this madness with Heaven," you didn't so much as turn your head as you spoke instead keeping your eyes fixed on the door as you held it, "You know where to find us."  
Not me. Us. 
As you pushed your way out of the bookshop and disappeared into the morning crowds, it hit Aziraphale that he'd lost both of you. You and Crowley chose Earth and each other over him. If the Metatron hadn't walked in seconds after the doors swung shut on your departure, Aziraphale would have fallen apart. He still might. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As you walked away from the bookshop and your partner inside, it felt like you were being burned alive from the inside out by holy water and hellfire all over again. That had nearly killed you nearly 5 decades ago. This might as well. 
You might have fallen apart in the middle of the street if you hadn't found your other partner waiting down the block from the shop by his car. The second you were within arms reach of Crowley, he opened his arms to you. 
A sob escaped your lips as you buried your face into his chest. The familiar scent of him was an immediate comfort as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed circles on your back. 
"I'm sorry, love," Crowley muttered into your hair before he rested his chin atop your head. He wasn't usually one for public displays of affection but today he made the exception. 
"I tried," you whimpered, your face still buried in his shirt. 
"I knew you would," you could hear the sad smile in Crowley's words. 
Neither of you said anything more or moved for several minutes. Not until you felt Crowley tense. 
You turned away from Crowley enough to face back towards the bookshop but your partner kept you tucked close under his arm. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Aziraphale exiting the bookshop with the Metatron. 
Aziraphale hesitated by the doors of the lift that would take him back to Heaven. Both you and Crowley held your breath as the angel you both loved so passionately stood on the threshold of a decision that would change your lives forever. If the thoughts of two people alone had the power to change the will of another, Aziraphale never would have taken that final step away from his partners.
"Let's go home," Crowley whispered after the doors to Heaven closed on the pair of angels. 
He was the first to move and ushered you around the Bentley towards the passenger side. He kept his arm around you as he opened the door and only broke contact when you were seated inside the car. 
Your thoughts drifted away from the Bentley as Crowley started the car and pulled away into the street to drive to the home you had once shared with the two loves of your life. 
Now where it had once been three it would only be two hearts in that home. 
You wanted to hate Aziraphale for forcing you to choose like this. You wanted to hate him for being blinded by Heaven and not seeing the truth in why you and Crowley couldn't go. You wanted to hate him for leaving both of you. You wanted to hate him for it all so badly but your traitorous heart wouldn't let you.
You'd loved the Angel of the Eastern Gate so much and for so long it wasn't likely the hurt of today would dim that any time soon.
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nyxwritesstuff19 · 5 months
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Things People Say
“Bollocks.” Crowley cursed under his breath, searching his pockets again. He could very well miracle up another, but he had that specific bag specifically miracled almost twenty minutes ago to feed these specific ducks specifically and his brain had said specific too many times it was developing a lisp to his own ears.  
A duck quacked loudly at his feet and he narrowed his eyes at it. “In case it escaped your birdbrain, I don’t have any bloody food.” 
The duck only glared back at him and he engaged in the stare down until quiet giggles caught his attention. He turned to bright eyes sparkling with amusement. They were sat on the ground with a blanket rumpled up beneath them and a flock of ducks all nesting themselves in the wrinkles and pecking at the fabric.  
“I don’t think they speak English, I’m afraid.” they said, grinning. “You can sit if you want, though.” 
Crowley glanced over them consideringly before eyeing their little set up. It was difficult to maintain his swaying hips picking through the hoard of birds but he made it to a clear spot beside them, sitting with a soft huff.  
Nearer now, he spied the small green peas where he thought the ducks had been pulling at the blanket and smiled to himself.  
“You don’t feed ‘em bread either?” he asked casually, relaxing back under the weak sunshine.  
They shook their head, showing off the bag of peas in their hand. “This is better for them. They seem to like it too, which is a bonus.” 
“Why can’t ducks eat bread?” He wondered, watching another one waddling up to join them.  
They let him take some peas to feed it, humming consideringly before they answered. “Apparently, it’s about nutrition. There isn’t much in bread they benefit from, and it fills them up so they don’t eat the good stuff.” They scrunched their brows, looking up at the sky while they thought over their words. “It’s kind of like how you fill a cup full of ping pong balls and then sand. If you put the sand in first, you won’t get as many ping pong balls in. They need their ping pong balls first and their sand afterwards- if they still want it.” 
“Sand and ping pong balls? That’s a new one.” he smirked, amused.  
They flushed and shrugged their shoulders. “Weird, I know.” 
“Makes sense at least.” Crowley said, giving the ducks another round of peas. “Beats half the sayings humans have come up with over the years.” 
“They’ve all changed so much, though. And people don’t even remember the original saying, twisting it to fit them instead.” They commented, ignoring Crowley's wince at the slip up. “Like that whole ‘blood is thicker than water’ schtick.” 
“That’s not the original?” He asked, furrowing his brow. He’d heard it over the millennia but he couldn’t pinpoint an origin. 
They nodded, shifting to face him better where they sat criss cross. “The original was ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ meaning the complete opposite of what people use it for today.” 
Crowley hummed thoughtfully, glancing back over to them, “You know any others? The original ones I mean.” 
“Yeah, a few. Like ‘Jack of all trades but master of none.’ also has ‘but better than master of one’.” They continued only to smile down at a little duck insistently asking for some pets. “Another one would be curiosity killed the cat, it’s more commonly known that satisfaction brought it back. And ‘early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.’” 
“Bit morbid.” Crowley mused, scrunching his nose.  
Another giggle escaped their lips and his gaze was drawn back to their face, eyes pinched in the corners from their smile.  
“Maybe a bit, but it’s still technically true.” They conceded.  
Crowley smiled and their conversation continued with ease.  
Hours stretched, ducks came and went, and they both only thought to come back down to Earth when the peas were all gone and the ducks had all waddled back to the water.  
“Guess we should go.” They murmured, fiddling with a fold of the blanket.  
Crowley made a noise of agreement, trying not to acknowledge the fact he wasn’t at all prepared to let them go and lose their company.  
“Will you be back here, by any chance?” He asked quietly, almost hoping they hadn’t heard it as he helped them fold up the blanket.  
They flashed him a small smile, hugging the plush square to their chest. “Yeah, I can be.” 
“Tomorrow, perhaps?” Crowley grinned hopefully. 
“Tomorrow.” They agreed, reaching out and giving his bicep a warm squeeze before they slipped past.  
Crowley looked out over the pond, emotions swirling and fluttering in his chest, making his lips smile wide and already yearning for tomorrow to get to him already. 
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teigo-the-explorer · 4 months
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What's Next?
Currently in the heat of finals season! hehe... Anyway, now that Arbitrary Lives and A Sinner's Redemption are about to wrap up, I have been thinking about what series-length fics I should write next. I already have some ideas, but I am also willing and would love to take suggestions.
Disclosure: Arbitrary Lives will get another few parts, so it's not quite over yet
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novthewolf · 4 months
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Good Omens Masterlist
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*-*-*-*-*
Two’s company, three’s a family - Masterlist
*-*-*-*-*
Aziraphale x Reader [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines : None
*-*-*-*-*
Crowley x Reader - [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines :
None
*-*-*-*-*
Aziraphale x Crowley - [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines :
None
*-*-*-*-*
Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley - [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines :
None
*-*-*-*-*
Grabriel x Reader - [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines :
None
*-*-*-*-*
Belzebub x Reader - [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines :
None
*-*-*-*-*
Beelzebub x Reader x Gabriel - [Request Open]
Headcanons :
None
Imagines :
None
*-*-*-*-*
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noforkingclue · 2 months
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Heaven
Hello, would you like some angst on a Saturday afternoon?
This is a continuation of 'Desperation' so it'll be best to read that first!
There's another part out after this and maybe one (possibly two depending on how it goes) when series 3 is out.
Hope you enjoy the fic!
“Heaven,” you said shocked, “you want me to go to heaven with you.”
Aziraphale gave you a soft look and took a step towards you. You narrowed your eyes and leant away slightly but didn’t back away. At your lack of retreat Aziraphale slowly approached you until he was directly in front of you. He raised his hands and cupped your face gently. You could practically feel Crowley seething behind you.
“We can make it better,” Aziraphale said softly, “a new heaven. We could do so much good.”
“But I’m not an angel,” you said, “or a demon. I know I’m not fully human anymore but won’t I be dead if I go-”
You pointed upwards and raised your eyebrows. Aziraphale smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. You heard Crowley scoff behind you and Aziraphale rubbed small circles against your cheekbones.
“There are always ways of getting around that,” he said softly, “please y/n. You stuck by me last time. Think of the difference we could make.”
“Oh yeah, like a bunch of angels would listen to a human.”
You glanced over at Crowley, breaking Aziraphale’s hold on you. He was leaning against a wall, arms folded, as he glared at the angel from behind his sunglasses. Aziraphale pursed his lips but didn’t say anything in retort. Crowley pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to the two of you. He put his hands on your shoulders and leant closer. He pressed his cheek against yours and said quietly,
“We can do this. The three of us. Just how it’s always been.”
“Think about how much better we could make things for everyone else.” said Aziraphale
“Think of everything they’ve done to us,” Crowley breathed out, “Heaven and Hell tried to kill us.”
“But-” started Aziraphale
“And by chance we survived and left us alone.”
Crowley’s arms snaked downwards and curled around your waist. You were brought back to that moment in your kitchen and you felt your face get hot. Red started to colour Aziraphale’s cheeks and Crowley let out a deep chuckle.
“We’ve all thought about it at some point,” he said, “Haven’t you?”
“I don’t know-” Aziraphale started
“Yes,” you said quietly, “after armageddon. The three of us together.”
“Then you’ll stay?” Crowley said, “on earth.”
The silent ‘with me’ was evident. The pleading edge to his voice, something that he would strongly deny if you ever questioned him about it. 
“I can’t go with you ‘zira,” you said, “not this time. I’m sorry.”
You took a step forward, out of Crowley’s embrace, and took Aziraphale’s hands. You gave them a brief squeeze and smiled at him. Aziraphale returned it but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. He raised your hands and pressed a soft, brief kiss against your knuckles. When you let go of his hands his remained lingering in the air for a second. He gave you a pained expression and you closed your eyes so you didn’t have to see it. You turned around and headed towards the door. However Crowley stopped you before you could leave by putting a hand on your shoulder.
“So you picked me this time,” he said with a smirk, “good to know.”
“Picked you,” you snapped pulling your shoulder free, “what the fuck is that meant to mean.”
You moved closer towards the door, pointing a finger at the angel and demon. Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak and took half a step forward but when he saw the expression on your face he stopped. Crowley remained concerningly quiet, contemplating what you had just said. His expression, even though you couldn’t see his eyes, unnerved you slightly. For the first time since knowing them, you wanted to get away from your friends.
“You know what, do what you want,” you said quietly, “go to Heaven, see if I care.”
“Y/n-” started Aziraphale
“But this,” you waved a hand in front of you, “is over. Do you think I want to choose between the two of you? Don’t you think I’d rather the three of us stuck together?”
“Hang on,” Crowley said, “let’s talk this over. I think a table at the-”
“No,” you snapped, “Just no.”
You weren’t going to let him tempt you into staying, not after what he said. You gave them a bitter smile before turning and finally leaving.
Leaving the people you had known for most of your life. The two people who you faced armageddon with and survived. The two people you thought you could rely on more than anything.
But like Aziraphale said- nothing lasts forever.
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aziraphales-library · 9 months
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Hello dears! I am not quite sure if I have asked this before, so I do apologize if I am repeating myself.
I'm looking for some hurt comfort in the form of a reader with chronic pain. Some fics with the reader being comforted by Crow and/or Az.
If it proves difficult to find fics where the reader has chronic pain, I would also love recommendations on fics where either of the boys struggle with it.
I've had a fair amount of trouble finding them myself, so I thought to ask the masters!
Thank you, and have a wonderful 24/7!
Hi! You check our #reader insert and #chronic pain tags for more fics you may enjoy! I can only find one reader insert fic in which the reader has chronic pain--please be aware this is an explicit fic! The others are more fics in which Aziraphale or Crowley have chronic pain...
Comfort porn for anyone who's feeling sore and in need of some special pampering by GayDemonicDisaster (E)
An angel and a demon turn up on your doorstep to dispense some care when you're not feeling great.
Written by request for a couple of people on our Good Omens discord server who are feeling rotten right now from injuries and chronic illness. CousinSerena started the idea of customised comfort porn, and more was requested, so it was my turn to do one. I also suffer from chronic pain so I know what it feels like to be like this. This one goes out to anyone who needs some one on one NSFW pampering from everyone’s favourite demon and angel. There isn’t any plot, it’s pure indulgent Porn Without Plot.
For this one, the reader will have a vulva, just a CW in case that’s not your cup of tea.
Aches by flowersandfairylights (G)
Crowley is dealing with joint pain, Aziraphale is in distress, somehow they finally (although vaguely) actually tell each other things instead of leaving each other guessing... oh right with a shit ton of comfort from and to both sides.
Balm by EdosianOrchids901 (T)
A summoning leaves Crowley with serious injuries. Despite all of Aziraphale’s healing, some of the damage is permanent. Crowley struggles to adjust to the constant pain, but maybe his angel can make it easier to bear.
Breathe Some Life Into My Bones by PinkPenguinParade (G)
It would be okay, he told himself, standing to clap with the rest of the theatre. One look to his right and he couldn’t stop smiling, even as his corporation complained. Aziraphale wanted him around. Aziraphale wanted him to do things, to be present, to be with him and there was no way he was going to turn that down, not now he finally got to enjoy his angel being kind and bitchy and pouring that ridiculous love out onto the humans and being just enough of a bastard to be worth loving.
Crowley deals with chronic pain, and he hasn't told Aziraphale because he doesn't want to stop giving the angel everything he wants...
Unpacking by cassieoh (M)
Turns out the “moving” part of moving in together is the easy bit.
First Impressions by DawnOfTomorrow (M)
The first time Crowley saw the most beautiful man in the world, he was… in a bit of a state. Hammered, you could say.
The second time he saw the most beautiful man in the world, he was, while not drunk, possibly even more of a mess than when he had been drunk, because he was sitting on the hallway floor of his apartment building, sweaty, covered in paint splotches of various colours, and about 30 seconds from having a nervous breakdown.
It all got worse from there.
- Mod D
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